


The Sparrow's Heart — A Gency Story

by ArazenLucis



Series: The Sparrow's Heart — A Gency Story [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, F/M, Fanfiction, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:47:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29482449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArazenLucis/pseuds/ArazenLucis
Summary: Genji was a playboy, spending his life doing whatever he pleased but he was always the black sheep of his family and that came consequences. Mercy was the world's most renowned doctor and throughout her tenure, at Overwatch, her breakthroughs changed medicine. Now the two must find a place in each other's lives and a place in a world that is no longer disillusioned by Overwatch.
Relationships: Genji Shimada/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Series: The Sparrow's Heart — A Gency Story [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2165541
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	1. Death

The bells rang ever so loudly in his head, their harrowing sounds growing evermore present, like an incessant nuisance. Until this critical juncture, where they at last silenced themselves. He found peace at last. The droplets of rain striking his smeared visage cleansed of the impurities that stained him, but there was an untraceable bitter taste that lingered on his tongue where the rain fell. The coldness spread from his core to the extremities, swallowing him whole. It wasn't long before the calming touch of the rain he relished mere moments ago, now felt like nothing at all. Genji turned his gaze from the endless cloudy sky to where he felt some sensation. He looked down, to see his severed arm paint the earth with a sorrowful crimson. A blade impaled through his sternum, the sparrow still felt the steel extend its reach beyond his bareback. Weakness overcame him but in a moment of solace, as he accepted his faith and prepared for departure to the endless nothingness that awaited him, he mustered the strength to grasp the hand that wielded the bane of his existence with the arm that remained tethered.

"Are you at peace, Hanzo?" The Sparrow muttered, an inquiry met by damning silence. "You've fulfilled your duty and slain your only brother." Still, he was met with silence and with frustration mounting a second wind sparked new life within. A grip that fixated on Hanzo's wrist now took him by the collar drawing Hanzo closer to his brother, as death's grip tightened around Genji. "You're despicable. You didn't learn a thing from our father. You let the elders played you like some pawn."

The blade from Genji's abdomen was extracted, at last, the venom in his dying words finally began to take effect upon the apathetic Hanzo, invoking the turbulence of emotions, he so desperately attempted to suppress, to surface. Angered, Hanzo gave his brother one final push, forsaking him to the earth. A solemn vow to fulfill his duty to the clan he valued above all else, including the life of his brother, upon which he metaphorically spit on with a last act of disrespect. "You're but a disgrace to the clan. You are not fit to be Shimada. You have forgotten the burden the name carries. We can no longer abide by your childish behaviour, Genji."

Turning heel the last living Shimada departed, kicking dirt onto the body that would soon be a corpse. It was only mere moments ago, that he could appreciate the colourless darkened sky in all its glory. It was monotone and drab, but there was beauty in simplicity. Beauty that slipped from his grasp with each passing second, slowly the crying skies above became nothing but a hazy reflection until it became nothing at all. An endless void from which light could not escape, the eternal nothingness. Genji verbalized nothing for he damned his faith, he did not embrace death willingly and it is only in his twilight he came to realize. Death had forced thyself upon him. How he longed for the pleasures of the flesh that he once drowned in, without a thought for consequence. A female companion wrapped around one arm and a drink that would make any man far more honest than he was capable of being in the other. Even the sounds of the arcade machines now played in his head like an addictive melody, even if such sounds were anything but. "I don't want to.." But the choice was not one for him to make.

"Calling Overwatch HQ, Agent ID: X-90843. Operation: Dragon's Breath. Code Alpha: Requesting immediate medical assistance. The subject is in critical condition. EMT has stemmed the bleeding but the wounds still prove to be fatal. Transporting subject to Tokyo facility. Priority: Valkyrie."

"Out of the way!"

"Operating room now!"

"Where is she?!"

"She's on her, ETA 15 mins. Tracer is with her."

"He won't make the 15 mins."

The hands of time mercilessly marched on. With each second that was lost to the sands of time, Genji's spirit communion to the great beyond intensified. A pitiless existence, transfixed onto the great divide between life and death, unallowed to cross into either.

"Even if she gets here now, there's nothing she can do.."

"Then it's a good thing Overwatch's medical research is ahead of its time wouldn't you say?"

A voice commanded the attention of the room as the doors to the operating room flung open. The committer, however, was careful not to contaminate the cleanroom and abide by the strict protocols set in place, dressed in a white lab coat, flaxen hair tied up and away from potentially hindering her work, a stethoscope slung around her neck. She walked with purpose and urgency, just a pace short of running. Approaching the patient with one glance she assessed his condition, the accompanying report was studied just as quickly and put to the side, which only served to reinforce what she had already predicted. "You over there!" She commanded personnel as if this was a battlefield and she was the presiding commander. Beeps of all kind sounded off, each one indicating one critical condition after another. They were cascading, mounting, becoming overwhelming.

"He's going into cardiac arrest!"

Even as the room around her descended the spiral of chaos, she stood steady at the eye of the storm, steadfast and resolute, armed with the skills and knowledge to navigate the storm. With two paddles she marched onto his bedside. "Move!" She demanded. "Clear!" She carried as she imposed the two paddles onto his chest. The electrocardiogram detected no significant change. So she tried again. "Clear!" And again. "Clear!" And Again. "Clear!"

"Dr. Ziegler.." A nurse placed a hand on her shoulder, to distract and detract but the same complexion of determination persevered. "Clear!" She slowly retreated the paddles. Perhaps it was time to admit, admit that even for all the advancements in medicine she made, all the times she stubbornly defied the odds, there are some souls the grim reaper was unwilling to let loose once more onto the world. It was then, the eternal void answered her remorse. The monitors once more established a steady pattern. The heartbeat she read was weak, but it was stable.

"Induce hibernation for at least a month." She directed. "Providing he can maintain this heart rate for another hour we can proceed with the operation. We'll need to amputate both legs. The tissue has already begun to die, we need to act quickly before an infection sets in. Ready the therapeutic cybernetics, we'll install them right away, as long as the neural interface is successful he should wake up feeling as if nothing has changed."

Drawing a pen from her pocket, she recovered a holo pad upon which she scribed all her directives and approved with her impression at the bottom, before handing it off to the appropriate staff to follow through.

"Prepare the healing pod. There's not much tissue left, but we'll at least be able to regenerate what remains."

The doctor turned to the patient once more, sapphire hues carefully studying what remained. From what patches of skin not stained by crimson, she could deduce the man either maintained an effective skincare routine of sorts or was blessed by genetics. He was an ideal "specimen" so to speak, a good bone structure served as the framework for his figure, upon which he maintained an ideal muscle tone. Perhaps the picture of health so frivolously the media often advertised. Yet for all his physical virtues, he'd now be forced to forfeit nearly all to cling to what little life still sparked within. A sense of remorse now burdened the prodigal doctor. The man appeared to be around the same age as her, uncertain as she didn't have the opportunity to study identity details yet, being consumed by the severity of his injuries. Despite his youth, he was massacred, defiled, what remained was a husk of who he once was. Wounds so deep it cut to the bone, and in some instances wounds, the cut bone was openly exposed to the contaminant-less air of the operating room. Angela bit her lower lip, a growing frustration burrowed in her chest, this was more than attempted murder this was all-consuming hatred unleashed onto another, an act of sincere evil.

Irrespective of the therapies that would restore his body's full functionality, in some instances enhancing his capabilities, allowing him to discard the limitations of the fragile human body, the extent of the mental trauma he'd now be forced to cope with remained an uncertainty. He'd continuously tread the line between man and machine, would he be able to establish equilibrium? The porcelain skin of her thin digits caressed the edges of the gaping wound upon his chest. It was a prayer if anything. Not that she invested much faith in an omnipotent force beyond human comprehension, but if there ever was such a thing, let it show him mercy. There she felt some reassurance, an answer to her prayer of sorts, a strong steady rhythm to his breathing as if he was stubbornly defying the odds and clinging to life. The crestfallen doctor found some solace, at last, which manifested as a subtle smile that curved to her pale lips. "Don't give up." She whispered

"Dr. Ziegler. Commander Morrison, Blackwatch Commander Reyes, and Captain Amari are here to see you." She turned her head in surprise, seldom did the three heads of Overwatch convene. To add to the exceptionality of the moment, the three gathered to addressed her, whereas more often than not, her correspondence with top brass involved exclusively Morrison. Intrigued Angela pried herself away from the table and departed the room. "Prep him for surgery." She instructed before her impromptu exit.

"Commander Morrison, if this is about the situation in Switzerland my team there is more than capable of handling it." She quickly commented, taking a stab in the dark as to what pressing concern would warrant such an intervention here.

"It's not about that Angela. But this a sensitive matter, let's find somewhere quiet." The air in the atmosphere suddenly grew heavy. Angela felt the temperature of the room plummet and her bones grow stiff. Something ominous hung between the two parties convened here, She studied their expression and she could already deduce whatever the matter was, it was something she wouldn't be able to stomach. The doctor sighed, venting the doubts that restrained her before she followed the three into an isolated room and as the door shut behind her the sense of tension only wrung tighter.

Nearly an hour had passed.

"No way!" She stated thunderously, her voice carrying to the nearby halls, warranting the few curious eyes to wander to the room through the glass window. All such gazes were met with a scornful one from Reyes, that immediately re-directed them back to their duties.

"Angela, calm down. This benefits Overwatch and the people of Japan. We haven't gained any ground in our fight against the Shimada, this is our best chance." Morrison interjected.

"I won't!" She protested with vigour once more.

"Angela, you're being stubborn." They presented a unified front, with even Ana echoing their sentiments. Angela felt as if she was being cornered, forced to do their bidding or else, but she was not so easily toppled, she'd stand her ground and uphold her morals. Superiors or not, she had no intention of following through.

"Stubborn!? I developed that technology to increase the survivability of our soldiers on the front lines. The technology isn't even finished, neural compatibility caps out at 75% on even the most trained soldiers who have been using enhanced augments for 10 or more years and prolonged connection could permanently damage the nervous system. But you're asking me to administer an upscaled version of that technology to a patient who barely escaped death. You're trying to turn him into a living weapon for your war and I won't do it! It's unethical and that putting it mildly." Angela explained, all the details laid bare before top brass, every argument a sound objection against their stance. Yet even after sharing a glance, they appeared to remain unmoved. "He doesn't deserve this…"

"Yes but I understand that the cybernetics can shock his nervous system awake once initialized it might even bring him out of his hibernation state," Morrison added.

"I-" Angela prepared to defy them one more, dissuade them if possible, open their eyes to this corrupted train of thought but she was interrupted by a hand being hammered onto the table that divided the two sides. Reyes, at last, stood from his seat and approached, the taller man now towering over her. Eyes that knew no compassion attempted to pacify her but it was met with a gaze deterministic gaze that did not crumble to such petty displays of power. Angela stood her ground against that scowl.

"Angela-" But Reyes was quickly interrupted. "It's Dr. Ziegler."

"Fine." After a huff, he continued, unperturbed by her open defiance. "I am the one responsible for Genji Shimada, as I am the leader of the operation, assigned by that man right over there." An extended index pointed to Morrison sitting across the table and the doctor's vision tracked to meet an apathetic gaze. "I allowed you to save him but if you won't do as you're told I'll easily give that to someone who has the stomach to do what is necessary since you do not."

"It's not a matter of having the stomach for it, it's about wanting to do what's right, and it's my technology," Angela answered his blatant insinuation of her cowardice. A slap to the face, how she would like to respond in kind but such an action would only weaken the position she fixed herself in. Ethics guided her judgement, and she could not comprehend why it didn't at the very least guide Morrison and Amari as well. Her response was met with a satisfied smirk from the Blackwatch commander. More than an insult, now he was mocking her. She didn't have the power to stop the proverbial train travelling at Mach speeds and he knew. So through his mannerisms, he provoked her, provoked her to do something imprudent and permanently validate him. Ziegler clenched her fist, ready to do just that.

"All technology you develop while working in Overwatch belongs to Overwatch. All I have to do is hand over all this tech to someone who sees things a little differently." Reyes carefully navigated the dynamics of power in this conversation, slowly robbing Angela of all of it. If this were chess, he'd be but one move away from checkmate and now he reached for the final piece to do just that. "But I wonder. Can you trust someone else to do it right? Are you willing to play with someone else's life just to defy a direct order, doctor?"

Enraged, Angela gritted her teeth, canalizing all her rage into that right fist, ready to unleash it all unto that smug face and permanently free him from his arrogance. Faith intervened however, a device mounted to her wrist sounded off an alarm, reminding her of her priorities and keeping her grounded in this trapped cage. She looked at Reyes. "You're despicable." She said with conviction, before marching through him and shoving Reyes aside with her forearm to exit the room.

"That was over the line Reyes," Amari commented, reflecting on his conduct before the doctor. It was met with nothing more than a shrug of his shoulders as a retort.

"Over the line or not. She has no choice now." The Blackwatch commander triumphantly remarked, without a thought to his methods.

Morrison simply observed, in silence, hesitant to the leap to the defence of either of his friends. As he saw it, the objective they established was accomplished, however crudely it may have been achieved.

Angela slowly traversed the halls to her destination, her thoughts all-consumed by the situation imposed onto her. She tried to internally reconcile the two opposing sides with an explanation that was sufficiently satisfied but she couldn't conjure on. From every which angle she approached this problem, it was unjust. She just simply couldn't do it. She soon turned her gaze up from the floor, her team was ready to undertake the surgery. What deliberations she had regarding the previously discussed subject would have to wait, as now this required her unbridled focus. As she entered the room a nurse had offered her a mask, one she placed against her face and the automated features of the masked worked to secure its position there. Angela looked down at her gloved hand where the sensation lingered, the feeling of his beating chest, the feeling of him fighting for his life. She was unsure why she clung to that feeling but it gave her some respite at this moment. Ste stepped forth, and beyond the curtain, there he was; Genji Shimada.


	2. Chapter 2: Rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his month-long hibernation, Genji finally awakes in a rather dramatic fashion. Afterwards, Mercy and Genji are allowed to spend some time together as Genji continues to recover only to be interrupted by Overwatch top brass who demand Genji help their fight against the Shimada family. Genji is reminded he no longer means anything to his family and ultimately decides what he will do going forward, even though it frightens the doctor that nursed him back to health.

The dawn of a new day approached. The golden sun peeking above the horizon, as if it were shy to display its radiance and assume its vividity in all its glory so it settled for wearing an orange tinge for now. Angela awoke, as the light warmed her back, long lashes fluttered, vision attempting to pierce through the hazy veil. She rubbed her eyes to assist in that regard. It escaped her when she fell asleep and where. A soft yawn escaped through her finely shaped pale pink lips, two slender digits layered above her mouth so as not to appear rude but there was none to criticize her for her lack of etiquette here. She surveyed the room as she sat up. 

It all returned to her in a rush. She looked upon the bed before her, the right side of which she used to temporarily rest her eyes for a minute for just a few minutes the night before. Yet those ephemeral seconds of eye rest spanned into a deep slumber. However, she was not the occupant of the aforementioned bed. No, the occupant was a patient. He had spent less than two days under her care, yet even in a comatose state she somehow left an impression on the young doctor. Whether it be through a sense of responsibility, or now; guilt, she felt obliged to stay at his side.

Early hours, but the conundrum that cursed her with an infernal headache last night, continued to plague her today. She had already moved to have her assistants wipe the data about the project, from the Overwatch database and discard any prototypes constructed of the enhanced cybernetics. So in her power, she had taken all the possible steps to ensure Genji need not march down a path he had no agency to deny. Yet she still felt a sense of unease. Reyes was resourceful, despite what precautionary measures she may have taken, she felt as if he still had a card tucked under his sleeve, metaphorically speaking. Her internal debate was interrupted when a sliding door to the room sounded open, scraping against the air-seal steel brace. 

“Ana. What do you want?” Angela’s words greeted her with venom dripping from every syllable. She was one of the three to impose upon her a task they all knew she could not abide by. So here she readied herself for another clash of ideals, morals and logic. All of the cards were ever in her favour, yet they had little sway as it pertained to direct orders. 

“You were right, Angela,” Ana replied, ignoring the frustration directed at her by the blonde. Understandable frustration, Ana thought. 

“Of course I was.” A firm belief in her earlier stance is what she echoed, she didn’t need reaffirmation from someone conditioned to cool the hot blood that surged through her being before taking a shot. Conditioned to do so without remorse. Though she avidly avoided attaching a label to one or defining them by the labels attached to them, the undeniable truth remained; Ana was a killer. A killer had no moral high ground to speak of to dispense her judgement upon the practice of preserving life. It wasn’t two sides of the same coin, killing and treating, as Ana often mistook it to be, rather it was two different coins entirely, Angela thought and justified to herself. 

Silence filled the air as Ana approached, soon it was only the patient in question that divided the two as shineless sapphire oculars peered up at the muddied brown of the captain. Words could often relieve tension, the tension that gripped them both in a vice yet neither thought to took up the literary tools to be used as a knife to cut themselves free of this tension. Ana noticed the scorn in Angela’s glare, it was as if she was looking upon someone who stabbed her in the chest. Perhaps she wasn’t the perpetrator of that action, but she was the enabler and equally as guilty. Ana finally spoke, shedding light on what would become of Genji Shimada.

“Gabriel went to Jack with the idea. He knew I wouldn’t support it. The two of them were convinced it was a good idea. before they even approached and deemed it as necessary. I thought maybe they were but you were right Angela, we cannot make this decision for him. If the decision is made at all, it must be made by him.” The doctor was slow to trust, but Ana’s slightly accented speech was sincere, interlaced with regret. “I talked to Jack and he agrees. Gabriel isn’t happy, but that’s a problem for us, doctor. You can rest easy.”

Angela inhaled, sharply, the surrounding air filled her nostrils in a mad dash but it was quickly followed by a forceful exhale through her parted lips, her warm breath spilling onto the sparrow’s still intact arm. Her eyes were shut, insensible to visual eyes, unfortunate since she would come to miss the twitch of his index as it was caressed by her breath. A sigh of relief exorcised her of the weight upon her shoulders that burdened her. Though she had yet to fully align herself with top brass for this relief she could only say; “Thank you. Ana.”

Ana looked upon the doctor whose gaze anxiously pried away from her own as if it was in a hurry to look elsewhere. When Ana tracked Angela’s gaze, she noted how it settled onto the bandaged visage of Genji. Though she still wore a mask of apathy, there was some gleam in those sapphires, a mark of optimism birthing within. It didn’t take long for the captain to recognize, she was interrupting this silent communion. So she turned her heel and departed without a sound. Angela’s hand rested upon Genji’s wrist, as she whispered under her breath; “I was worried for nothing. You’re going to be just fine. I hope.”

The day continued until the moon’s harmony left the sky, and was replaced by the glimmering white light of the moon. So it did for weeks. Every day the hands of the clock struck 10, Angela found herself drawn to this one room. Where she’d spend the night in a room where only the hum of the pod filled her auditory senses, a pod that submerged a wounded sparrow in a honey-like liquid, slowly nursing him back to health. As it did so, Angela dragged her index down across a holo-screen finding a new journal to occupy her time. Weeks accumulated into a month. 

“Contusion detected. Pod integrity at 73%, 72%, 71%, 70%, 53%.” Angela was fast asleep, only to be woken by the automated voice of the monitoring AI sounding out integrity ratios, decreasing rapidly. Jolted awake, Angela abandoned her chair and rushed to the pod to inspect. Did her assistants somehow jeopardize the assembly when replacing the fluid? The tips of her elegant digits quickly glided from one key to another, entering lines of code and commands that could get the structure to stabilize, but she was interrupted.   
A fist struck the glass surface of the pod, taking Angela by surprise, cause her to take a step back. A blistering thud echoed across the room. A fist once more emerged from the translucent fluid, bludgeoning the glass surface, the system sounded off its alarm, as it voiced another integrity ratio; “Integrity at 37%.” Blaring sounds were a horrible rhythmic mismatch for the sound of flesh and bone striking tempered glass, again and again, quickening its pace until the minuscule crack on the surface expanded its range, stretching to the edges. “Please stop! I’ll get you out safely I promise!” The force from beyond gave no credence to her plea, instead, it mustered all its might into the final blow, shattering the tempered glass surface of the pod as the yellow liquid erupted from the pressurized chamber. 

Angela raised an arm to shield herself from the fluid but her motor nerves dictated her actions quicker than her cognition could process the events that were unravelling. She lunged towards the erupting fluid and grabbed onto the figure fell out, subconsciously, or what remained of him, whilst simultaneously being drenched in the healing liquids of the pod, defying the opposing force. Her ponytail depressed as the hair tie that held it in place came loose, Her clothing now stuck to her figure uncomfortably but she managed to catch Genji in her arms, wrapping two arms around his entire torso as she fell back onto a wet floor. The alarms were at last responded to, as personnel stampeded to the room and after finally gaining access by undoing the troublesome security measures placed, they found the doctor. Collapsed onto the floor, clinging onto the wingless sparrow for dear life, her head lowered and his scarred face safely tucked into her chest. The man groaned in the embrace of his angel only catching a dizzying rendition before his consciousness faded. 

“Quick, Help her!” Emergency alarms sounded, personnel swarmed. The sedative effects of the pod liquid finally set in, inducing the heroic doctor into a state of a deep sleep, but she took one last look upon Genji before her state of consciousness was taken from her as well. 

“I’ve never had a patient punch his way out of one of those pods before,” Angela commented, unsure whether to be furious with his recklessness or amused by the fact that he would be the reason that all of her Valkyrie chambers would be doubly reinforced from here on out. Her tone reflected this pleasing emotional contest. Though her expression spoke a different story, a subtle smile curved into those pale pink lips. 

“Heh.” Genji chuckled at her comment, agreeing that novelty of the situation was at the very least unique. “When I woke I could not see anything but yellow, perhaps you should consider making the contents inside transparent,” Genji suggested. It was the fear of the unknown that suffocated him when he woke to nothing but a single unfamiliar shade. Tantalized by that fear he struggled to find out what awaited him. Reaching out a hand his remaining hand felt the oh-so-familiar texture of the glass. With the amalgamation of such sensory information, he acted, in line with his personality, feeling like a bird chained and caged. 

“How do you feel?” She inquired, whatever amusement informed her facial expression before, faded, quickly replaced by the features of concern. Genji maintained outward positivism that was a fabrication, like a mask woven with lies it was an aegis that allowed him to keep everyone tending to him at a distance, including her. Though Angela rationalized as to why she felt a proverbial thorn prick at her side continuously. The Doctor found her thoughts consumed with his wellbeing, dreading the day he’s approached by Morrison and his entourage. 

“I’m fine.” He lied, even offering a forced smile to sell his act. Angela looked down the one arm that remained and she had yet to recall when those digits were not clenched into a tightly gripped fist as if attempting to force the life out of whichever victim was unfortunate enough to fall into his grasp. This exchange of dialogue continued far too long, she’d thrust and he’d parry, forcing them into a stalemate that, and on and on it went. Dainty digits caressed the scarred skin of his hand, fingertips ever so gently kissing the tips of his bruised knuckles, which protruded with prominence. A kind touch, that even to Genji’s knowledge he didn’t know he craved. It was an elixir for the soul. Genji did not connect his gaze with her’s, instead, his eyes panned to the cherry blossoms that danced so elegantly outside his room. His thumb layered above her digits, capturing them all aside from her thumb in his palm, instinctively. 

The sparrow and the dove did not mutter a word to each other, nor share a look of acknowledgement, they were endlessly absorbed into the dancing petals as if the world outside was a boundless ballroom and the headstrong wind had asked the for the hand for the fair maiden that was the cherry blossom petal in dance and she graciously agreed. A performance that would captivate and silence only to the most attentive of the audience, there was no complimenting melody but Angela and Genji made do without. Would it continue forever? For those ephemeral seconds, it appeared as if it would. Genji, at last caressed those dainty digits as they did his scarred mirrors earlier. For those ephemeral seconds, Angela did not worry about what awaited him.

“Dr. Ziegler.” The two hands quickly tore away from each other, as if caught in the act. The two did not acknowledge the moment they shared or to the figures that imposed themselves now. Morrison. Reyes. Amari. It was an all too familiar sight, the way they stood before her, towering over her even from ten feet away. She was helpless before their authority within their organization before, it was by appealing to the morality within them that she managed to sway Ana, and by proxy, Commander Morrison but even she could tell from the intensity with which they approached, they would not be denied. Especially Reyes. “He’s still recovering. Whatever conversation you have to have, it can wait.” She protested. 

“That’s the third time you’ve told us that. I’m afraid my patience is running thin. Leave the room Ziegler, I’m not playing your games.” Reyes’ tone of voice conveyed an edge, an edge he purposely dulled the last time they gathered with arrogance. This time he was resolute, forceful, and enraged with the scorn his eyes he cursed her with. His patience had run thin, far too thin. “If you think I’m just going to-” A hand was gently placed upon her shoulder, giving her pause. It was Genji, attempting to quell her rage. He succeeded, stopping Angela from catapulting out of her chair. He simply offered her a nod, signalling it was okay. Angela exhaled a sigh of exhaustion. She reluctantly rose from her seat at his bedside and exited the room, marching past the threesome that forced her to do so as if they weren’t there, without sparing another word. The door clicked shut behind her as she did so.   
“You know why we’re here.” Reyes wasted no time in making his position known, he approached with urgency, standing at Genji’s side. “You’re Shimada and your family has been more or less running Japan’s streets. We’ve been trying for years to somehow even make a dent in your operation and we haven’t been able to. Now you’re going to help us.” Reyes spoke as if he was all but sure of the outcome as if he had supreme control over Genji’s allegiance, able to carve his path for him but he did not recognize how insolent a little sparrow could be until he was met with a “No.”

“You think I’d betray my family because some nobody asked?” Genji questioned, making offensive assertions whilst doing so. Fully aware of his speech tactics, he intended to aggravate the leaders of Overwatch for he had no respect for the organization that actively pursued to dethrone the Shimada. His family lorded over these streets longer than he or his father could recall, their will was baked into the concrete that paved roads. For the Shimada could speak their desires into existence within the land of the rising and he’d be damned if he’d surrender that kind of influence. “I am Shimada.” Genji still proclaimed with pride, ferocity burning in his piercing gaze. “I will not heed, I will not recede, I will take everything that I see for I embrace the dragon’s greed.” A maxim passed from generation to generation. The Shimada were unruly, their bellies were bottomless for they craved power, enough power to cast their dominion upon the world. Genji was no different in that regard. 

“Could you two leave?” Reyes asked of Morrison and Amari. Amari was about to verbalize a protest, but she was stopped by Morrison who shook his head for he had placed an uncanny amount of baseless faith in his friend and the two departed as Angela did earlier. The door similarly clicking shut. That was the cue. Reyes took a seat next to him and without a word passed him a holo-pad. “Open it.” Only two words of instructions were given to the unruly Shimada. But he did as he asked. And with a swipe of the finger, a sheet of solid light took the form before him, bursting with pages and pictures, all of them informative. The attached label is displayed at the top; Shimada, Genji #10025490. Genji began to peruse the contents displayed on the holo-screen, but there was yet to be some sort of verbal reaction to it all, one that Reyes patiently waited but he noted how the Shimada bit his tongue, precluding himself from saying anything at all. 

The air grew thick, too thick. It wouldn’t pass through his nostrils anymore, Genji’s lungs began to compensate for the apparent lack of inspired oxygen, with frequency. Yet all it did was leave a tightening feeling in his chest. Fingertips clawed at the gown he wore, anxiously, almost as if he was forcefully trying to tear at it and claw where the pain was most acute, but he lacked the strength to do so. “Breathe, kid.” Reyes counselled, observing a potential recruit on the verge of spiralling into a mental state of panic and therefore a diagnosed panic attack. Sweat dribbled down his pale visage, which slowly began to drain the colour from Genji’s epithelial even more so. It all rushed back like a vivid nightmare, the sorrowful sky, the blade through his torso, the severed limb emptying the blood into the thirsty earth. What he tried to deeply suppress, he was smacked in the face with. 

With the one functional arm, he abandoned the holo-pad, tossing it across the room. The very same arm suddenly grappled onto Reyes’ by his collar, bringing him closer. Eyes narrowed so far he began to see duplications of the Blackwatch commander sander spanning the room, teeth-gritting against one another as if two steel plates sliding past one another, Genji would raise his right arm and deliver the punishment Reyes’ deserved but in his fit of rage, he had relinquished his grasp on reality. It dawned on him again, like the dagger through his torso, he wanted so desperately to strike Reyes down with a right hook, as he had anyone who spat on the Shimada before, now realizing his right arm was nothing but a phantom now. So he felt a new pain strike him down instead, a phantom pain. Genji fell to the bed again, as pain referred down nerves long severed. A pathetic shell of his former self, squirming where he laid. 

The nickname given to him was derogatory. Sparrow. An unremarkable bird. Even more so now that he had his wings severed and tossed away, Half of Genji’s expression remained buried in that fabric. Tears that stained his cheek soaked the fabric too, he wanted to scream and blow his lungs out but he knew he couldn’t do that, not here. So he buried his face into the bed, unleashing a sorrowful silent scream. No one to hear him, no one to comfort him. “Face it, kid. You were the one they didn’t want. They’ve been planning to kill you for months and your brother went along with it. Saying it was for the best. They couldn’t wait to get rid of you. They’re all probably celebrating right now, drinking that weak piss you call sake. You’re not a Shimada anymore. Even if you go back now do you think they wouldn’t kill you on sight?”

It was the practice in imagery like his father had taught him so long ago. He could see it, all the elders gathered around a table, as they raised a glass to his death. At the epicentre of it all, his brother, heralded as the hero, as the one true heir to the Shimada name. Their chosen one. Ever since their father’s passing, this is all they desired, to erase the black mark on the family tree that was Genji. Oh, the relief they must feel. Genji always turned a blind eye to such affairs for he considered them trivial, but he had always placed his faith in his brother to deter their bloodlust, but instead, Hanzo encouraged them, even offering to act as their executioner. Their desire, bottomless, a depthless ocean that darkened the more you sank, eventually forbidding any allowance of light. How could they, Genji asked himself? How dare they offer him such empty smiles at every encounter? How dare they break their oath to his father, how dare they break their oaths to him? How dare they lie and deceive. Question after question he asked for his therapeutic benefit, but questions he did not need an answer the more he asked. 

“You can wallow in self-pity here for the rest of your life, touting a family name that isn’t worth shit to you. Or you can do what I’d do. Take back, what you lost, and then some.” Genji curled up at the bottom of a dark well, no source of light to guide his wayward thoughts that spiralled like a violent storm. Those words, however, resonated. A single rope dangled before him in this darkness. It was bloodied, teeming with blood, even dripping onto his cheek but he did it. He rose and grasped it. Tight. He knew what he had to do next, the path he must walk called on him to shed the skin of Genji Shimada. Only something greater than a wingless sparrow could climb this thread of despair. 

“23 missed calls from, Nathan.” With a press of a button, one of the recorded voicemails began to play as she pressed the communication device against her right ear. “Hey Angie, it’s Nathan. I know you must be busy with work and everything but it’s been awhile you know? We haven’t spoken in a month. I miss you. Call me back.” A conveniently timed ending to it, as the door she waited outside of so anxiously, at last, sounded open. Only Reyes emerged yet he did not give her the time of the day. He wore an all too satisfactory grin as he marched on down the hallway. Angela hurriedly entered the room, curiosity devouring her. “Genji.” She called out his name, as she rushed to his side, but as she inched closer it felt as if her intestines wound tighter and tighter with each step. Even though she spoke his name, he did not turn to face her. 

Genji pushed a holo pad onto her chest, abruptly almost, and without care for any discomfort, he might have caused. Annoyed by his lack of empathy, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Her eyes started to pursue the contents of the holo pad but she did not need to further than the document title and his initials inscribed at the bottom. Her body went numb, a paralyzing venom had intoxicated her. Angela looked down in disbelief and her initial reaction was to deny him his agency on this. “No Genji, you can’t! You can’t! You’ll never be the same again.”

“LOOK AT ME!” A howl echoed beyond this room, seizing ears within a sizable radius, deafening some. Anger was so thoroughly woven into every word. Angela had felt something in herself that she began to doubt she could feel from the gentle soul that so lovingly caressed her hand not too long ago, a soul with a fondness for the serenity he could not experience; fear. It was fear that claimed her, that forced her to take a step back and revaluate her situation. It was fear that slowly morphed her perception of him. She hung onto every his word, hoping that this was nothing more than a whiplash of accumulating frustration. “I will never be the same again. I can never be who I was again.” Angela failed, she could not find the kindness in his words anymore or a trace of that smile that bought her relief not too long ago. Her chest tightened as she held the pad close. The two looked at each other but did not share a word.


End file.
